


Siblings

by Viscariafields



Series: Leandra Hawke [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23910937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscariafields/pseuds/Viscariafields
Summary: Still recovering from her fight with the Arishok, Hawke is now faced with the unpleasantness of having emotions. Regarding Bethany.Varric gets it. He always does.
Relationships: Hawke & Varric Tethras
Series: Leandra Hawke [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1462840
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Siblings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a companion piece to my Bethistair fic, The Coolness of Your Shadow. It's not required reading, but it does explain the question of how on earth Bethany fell in love with Alistair in the first place.

Varric was waiting in her living room when Hawke returned from the Viscount’s Keep. She saw the way he quickly sized her up, eyes scanning up and down, before he smiled with a practiced ease.

Well. Could have been worse. Could have been Anders looking smug, or Isabela. She had pointedly ignored Sebastian smiling at her on the street. Might as well get this over with.

“Where did you go?” He sounded a little too pleased with himself.

She hung her weapons on the rack and loosened the buckles on her armor. “I heard the King of Ferelden was in town. Thought I’d see the man for myself. Looks just like the old one, honestly.”

“Well they were brothers, right?”

Hawke sat down heavily in a chair facing the fire, a hand holding her side. She’d spent the first twenty-two years of her life being told she looked just like her brother, too. There was no one to tell her that anymore.

“He’s shorter than the old king, which is respectful of him. Younger brothers shouldn’t be allowed to grow taller than their siblings. It’s rude.”

Varric scratched his head, and he _almost_ let that one go. “I was taller than Bartrand,” he admitted, settling into the chair across from her.

“No wonder the relationship soured.”

That killed the conversation for only a moment or two. Varric frowned. “I think we’ve gotten away from the topic at hand.”

“Was there a topic? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You. Leaving your home. Alone. For the first time since—”

“All my organs were rearranged?”

He grimaced. “Yeah.”

Her fingers dug into her side. Anders had told her everything was back in place and healed—it had been over a month—but it still felt wrong. Like he had replaced her parts with someone else’s parts, and they just didn’t fit right. They weren’t supposed to ache, but they did.

Varric had gotten up again and now poured her a drink, and she gladly accepted. She supposed he’d worry if she drained the wine in one go, but it was tempting. He topped it off again anyway, and Maker, she loved him for that. "Since when do you care about royalty?" 

“I didn’t go to see the King of Ferelden. I went to see Alistair.”

“They’re the same person, aren’t they?”

Hawke raised an eyebrow and drank again. “Did you come here to see Hawke or the Champion? I’ll warn you: the Champion is feeling a little worn down and isn’t taking visitors.”

The wine was settling in her brain, and though it did little to cheer her mood, it did slow everything down. So what if Varric got a smug face about her leaving the house? She _did_ leave this horrible, empty estate to walk the horrible, empty streets of Hightown and meet a man who, well maybe he wasn’t horrible, but he was just one more thing, wasn’t he? Just one more reminder of all the ways she had failed at everything except dying.

“So why did you see Alistair?”

There were so many lies she could have told. Because he was at Ostagar with her and Carver, even if they never met. Because he ruled over her home. Because he’d seen Lothering. Because he was talking about easing mage restrictions. Because he traveled with a mabari and she wanted to pet him. The mabari, not the man. 

Instead, to her own mild surprise, she told the truth.

“Bethany is in love with him.”

And he was in love with her. She knew it the minute she saw him, the big idiot. Every feeling written right across his face, as if the world hadn’t ever been cruel to him. Couldn’t even muster up a lie when she asked him outright. And it didn’t matter if he loved her because love just wasn’t enough, not when there was blight underground and magic in Bethany’s veins.

And she could have just slapped him for not realizing that. For his dopey sincerity and the ease with which Bethany loved him back. Naive, the both of them, and one of them had to be _smarter._ For the inevitable heartbreak, because it was always inevitable, and even more so when there was politics and Wardens and magic involved.

But she didn’t slap him. He was kind to her dog and even in the ten minutes she spent in his presence, she could see why Bethany liked him. Which was honestly just worse.

“How is Sunshine?”

Her cup was empty again, and she had no desire to fill it. She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. Took a deep breath through her nose and thought of all her unanswered letters and the last time she saw Bethany, face covered in soot as Lowtown burned in the Qunari fires, eyes downcast as she told Hawke she’d heard about their mother. Unfamiliar armor and a strange pallor about the face and that strained voice just barely concealing her anger. 

“Lost to me.”

“Scooch over.” Hawke protested with a grunt, but Varric was already shoving her. “Come on. This chair has room for both of us.” She relinquished the smallest area, not nearly enough for him to sit on, but Varric pressed his advantage, forcing his way onto the chair. In the end, she sat diagonally, her legs over his, her head resting on the winged back. He shifted again, holding his arm up, and with a sigh she repositioned herself again to rest her head on his shoulder, even if her foreign organs complained at how she folded herself.

“I say this as a shit brother who had an even shittier brother—You are a good sister, and Bethany knows this and loves you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I would never.”

He didn’t belabor the point, which was good because she eventually would have felt guilty about having to kick Varric out of her home. Instead she remained curled up on him, idly wondering if maybe Alistair wouldn’t fail Bethany as everyone else had. A kind-hearted man was rare enough in the world, but then, a kind-hearted man was holding her right now.

She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, though she had the distinct sensation of waking up when Varric shifted his legs. “Don’t go,” she let slip, an embarrassing plea.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he responded. “I’ll be here are long as you need.”

He always was. 


End file.
